I'll sing you a song, if you'll hear me like men,
Of the land of the mountain, the rock and the glen,
And the heroes who bled for the old Scottish cause,
When the Southron insulted our kirk and our laws;

For we'll make a stand for Scotland yet, the Wallace and the Bruce, Though frosty wits may sneer at home, and Cockneys pour abuse! With the fire of Robert Burns, and the faith Of stout John Knox, We'll be more than a match for the smooth English folks!

In the moor and the mountain, the strath, and the glen,
Every rock tells a tale of the brave Scottish men,
Of the high-hearted martyrs, who made the king pause,
When he swindled our freedom, and trampled on our laws.

For we'll make...etc

The king lost his head - fools may whimper and whine;
But he lost it, believe me, by judgement divine,
When he came, a crowned traitor, to pick wicked flaws
In the Covenant, the bond of our old Scottish cause.

For we'll make...etc

Our kings were the godly, the grey-plaided men,
Who preached on the mountains and prayed in the glen,
When the weak shuffling Charles, who swore false to the cause,
Sent his troopers to tramp on the old Scottish laws!

For we'll make...etc

There are prigs who will sneer, there are snobs who will laugh,
There are fools who will frown, when this bumper I quaff;
But here's to the men, who, like grey granite wa's,
Stood firm, when the Stuart down trampled our laws.

For we'll make...etc

They bled on the bleak moor, they hung on a tree,
They pined in black dungeons, were drowned in the sea;
But their blood was the cement that soldered our laws,
When they bled for their faith in the old Scottish cause.

For we'll make...etc

Then here's to the men, who made monarchs to quail,
Cargill and Cameron, Guthrie, M'Kail;
Their fame shall be sounded with deathless applause,
Who fought, bled, and died for our kirk and our laws!

For we'll make...etc